The Shift
by RachelFish
Summary: The start of Bella's senior year finds her at a new school missing old friends. Grades and graduation are her only priorities...until she meets Mase.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

"Well. How was it?"

"It sucked." I snort. "Duh."

Something crinkles in the background, and the sound of sloppy chewing filters through the line. "Did you eat lunch alone? At at table? By yourself?"

I cringe. "Why are you…talking…like that?"

Rose's response is a muffled _fuck off_.

"I scheduled a meeting with the guidance counselor during my lunch block," I tell her smugly. "No way was I sitting in the cafeteria alone, pretending to scroll through my phone like an idiot."

"Yeah, but what about tomorrow?"

"Well, fuck, Rose, I hadn't thought about tomorrow. Thanks for that."

She says something, but I can't make it out over the sound of her smacking.

I pull the phone away from my ear. "Dude. Gross. What are you eating?"

"Oh, God. Liam's selling that chocolate shit again. For karate or whatever. It's so fucking good."

I'm flooded with nostalgia I wasn't prepared for. My best friend's little brother sells those bars every year. Stealing them and making ourselves sick is our thing. At least it _was._

"Chocolate shit, Rose? Ew."

"I'd eat shit if it tasted this good."

"Oh my god…I'm hanging up now."

She laughs, and I miss her. Her _and_ her nasty mouth. "Good luck tomorrow."

"Ugh." I visibly deflate, falling back against my bed with an audible groan. "Thanks."

"And hey."

"Yeah?"

"Fuck 'em."

Normally I'd heed her girl-power challenge, but knowing Rose…

"You mean that literally, don't you?"

She chuckles. "It's a guaranteed way to make a friend."

"You give the best advice."

"Love you."

"Love you more."

* * *

**Yeah...I have no idea. Just a little something to get my brain working again. **

**So much love for Tiff, my favorite friend and sounding board. Thanks for holding my hand through everything, especially the real stuff.**


	2. Chapter 2

Day two at my new school goes a little smoother than day one, mostly because I'm no longer lost in a maze of hallways and classrooms. Prep's classes are more college-style than Forks' were, so unlike the steady schedule I had there, my Tuesday/Thursday classes are now different and longer than my Monday, Wednesday, Friday ones.

Which, unfortunately for me, means another day of new seats and faces and introductions.

Just after lunch—which I spent with the guidance counselor again, this time inquiring about colleges (fuckyouverymuch, Rose)—I check my schedule against the number above the door to room one-oh-nine and step tentatively inside. Math with Mr. Molina, which I don't mind, but a sea of empty chairs, which I do.

I can't tell if there's a seating chart, so I walk as far away from the front of the room as possible and snag the first empty chair I can find.

"You new?"

I position my backpack on the floor and meet my neighbor's eyes. "Yeah," I mutter, wincing. "That obvious, huh?"

He shrugs. "You looked a little awkward."

"Dude." I look at him rudely. "Thanks for that."

His long legs are splayed out beneath his desk, hands fisted inside the front pocket of his hoodie. There's a decent amount of hair on his face, and I shoot a sly glance at the other baby-faced boys filing in behind me. He looks out of place.

"Are you…a senior?"

His brows slide together in confusion. We're in a senior-level AP math class, after all, so it's safe to assume that we're all nearing graduation. "Yeah. Why?"

"You just have a lot going on" —I wave my hand in a circular motion toward his face— "there."

His long fingers appear and slowly stroke his jaw. "Here?"

"Right." I wave the same hand toward the classroom. "But the others…don't."

His eyes follow my wave, and together we stare at the huddle of guys near the door. They're pecking keys on their TI-82s and giggling.

"I don't know what to say right now."

I shrug. "You don't have to say anything. It's just an observation."

He continues to stroke his chin. "I feel defensive. Like…maybe I'm just genetically beardy. Or maybe I'm an early bloomer."

"No, no." I raise my hand to stop him. "Own it. It's…big."

"Big?"

I nod, really looking at it closely now. It's not even a beard. More just like…a lot of scruff. "Not bad big," I clarify. "Big's good. I like big."

His eyebrows slide up . "You like...big?"

Mr. Molina calls the class to order before I can dig my hole any deeper. Unfortunately, he's the kind of teacher who encourages new students to stand up and introduce themselves to the class. I notice that the Bearded Wonder has traded his chin strokes for a smug grin as I fumble my way through my name and favorite activities.

Horseback riding might be a bit of a stretch, but it's not like I could say, "I'm Bella, and I love cold beer and reality TV."

I glare at his not-age-appropriate face on the way back to my seat.


	3. Chapter 3

Later, as I'm working on our assignment, a note drops near my sandaled foot.

_I'm already 18. Maybe that explains it?_

I shoot a glance at the only person I've spoken to this block, but he's hunched over his worksheet in concentration.

_Explains…what? _I scrawl, then refold the paper and flip it back toward him. It lands gently on his desk, between his calculator and pencil, and I watch as his long fingers pry the edges apart and smooth it flat.

His answer makes me snort. _My manliness. The beard. _

_Let's not get carried away…_

He narrows his eyes at me, and I wait for him to write his reply, but he doesn't. Instead, he stares off into space, tapping his pencil against his lip softly.

I've just started calculating hell to the nth degree when the note—soft with wrinkles now—sails between my arms with expert ease.

_I spent my childhood in Africa. _

Confused, I don't waste much time scratching out a response. _So you're African? And that's why you're bearded? Is that where this is going?_

He laughs out loud, scrambling to slide the note under his work. He's got the prettiest smile ever. Straight white teeth and pink lips. My stomach dips and swirls when he hides his grin in his shoulder and shakes his head at me.

_You're nuts_.

I can't deny that, so I just shrug. The bell rings soon after, and my neighbor gathers his stuff quickly and unfolds himself from his seat. He's super tall and thin, but it's clear that his hoodie hides broad shoulders and a wide chest. He nods his chin at me in parting.

The note goes in my backpack. You know, for safekeeping.


	4. Chapter 4

I survive the week…but just barely. My brain's tired from all the learning I've had to do. Not just the curriculum, although Prep _does _seem a lot more intensive than Forks, but the schedule and the halls and the teachers, too. All the things I took for granted at my old school seem like so much work at my new one. In a moment of utter self-pity, I start to wonder if I'll ever settle in.

My phone rings as soon as I get home from school on Friday. "We're going to the cliffs tonight," Rose says when I answer. "You coming?"

"Uh…" I glance at the stack of homework waiting for me before Monday. I've never really had to study before, but it's obvious I won't be able to do the bare minimum to get by anymore. "I guess," I answer hesitantly. "Who's going?"

"You mean, _Will Jake be there?_" She makes a disgusted noise. "Probably. But fuck him."

"Uh…"

"Oh, right." She cackles. "You already did."

Just the thought of it makes me cringe. "Thanks for the reminder."

"I'll pick you up at eight," Rose tells me. "Be ready. I don't feel like lying to Renee and The Chief tonight."

We hang up, and I head downstairs to hang out with my parents for a bit. They're mostly cool, but now that my brother's off at college they squawk when I'm not around enough. We eat dinner together, and then I do my homework at the dining room table while my dad talks at the television and my mom piddles around in the kitchen. At a quarter 'til eight, I gently break the news that I'm spending the night with Rose and retreat to my bedroom before they can ask questions. It's for the best.

True to her word, Rose's headlights flash through my bedroom window at eight on the nose. I grab my duffle and pull my bedroom door closed behind me. That's for the best, too.

"See you tomorrow," I call, breezing through the living room.

"Bella." My dad lifts the remote and pauses the television. He waits until I slump back in to continue. "Keep your phone on."

I pull it from my back pocket and wave it around like a beacon of maturity. "Will do."

"Be safe."

"I always am."

"Stay away from Jake."

"Dad," I groan.

Jake wasn't the sole reason I left Forks and moved to Prep, but I'm not dumb enough to think he didn't have at least a _little_ to do with it. When Mom accepted a position on Prep's ELA planning committee, it included discount tuition for teachers' kids and the added bonus of looking good on my college applications.

It also conveniently moved me away from Jake. And the less Jake in my life, the better.

My dad mutters stuff about _punk kid _and _crooked hat_, but I ignore him and kiss his cheek.

"Love you."

"I mean it, Bella. I'd better be able to check in with you."

"Dad."

"Bella."

"Chill."

"I'm the chillest I've ever been."

"Oh god."

His laughter follows me out the door.

Rose waits until we're at the end of my street before rolling down the windows and plugging her phone into the dash. She cranks the volume, and we let the sticky air tangle our hair and prickle our skin. I've missed her, and I can tell by the way she talks over the music even though she hates it when people do that, that she's missed me, too.


	5. Chapter 5

"I thought horseback riding was your thing."

It's the tall guy from my math class at Prep. The not-African African one. My smile is instant and real.

"Did I forget to include underage drinking?"

"You did." He laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "So…Bella, right?"

I nod, suddenly a little shy. "That's me."

Before I can ask his name, Connor, a guy I knew from Forks, jumps on his back.

"Dude," he bellows, possibly drunk but definitely loud. "You showed!"

They wrestle around for a bit in that weird way guys do, while I stand by awkwardly…in that weird way _I _do. Eventually, Connor slings his arm around his friend's neck and remembers that they're not alone.

"Belllla," he slurs, scanning me up and down. "How you been, girl?"

I give him a small wave. "Pretty good."

"You here with Jake?"

I flush hot, repulsed to be tied to him even after all this time. "No," I snap, sharper than I intended. "I came with Rose."

"Rose," he repeats, grinning wide. "That's my girl." He smiles all high and secret, like I don't know he kisses sloppy and fingers fast. She tells me everything.

"Right."

"Oh, hey." Connor tightens his arm. "You know Mase?"

_Mase_, I repeat silently, smiling at him while I roll it around my tongue. I like it. It suits him. "I do, actually."

Connor's too far gone to figure out how we know each other. His eyes ping-pong back and forth a few times before he declares our new friendship worthy of toasting and leaves to grab another drink. More alcohol is the last thing he needs, but I think we're both relieved to see him go.

"So," I say, repeating his words from earlier. "Mase, huh?"

"It's actually Edward Masen," he clarifies, raising his eyebrows teasingly. "That's not very African, though."

I point my beer bottle at him accusingly. "Dude. How was I supposed to know what you meant?"

"_Dude,_" he mocks. "No worries."

"Really, though. Africa?"

He nods, rocking back on his heels a bit. "Really. I was actually born there."

"No shit."

He laughs. "Shit."

"Good God. How'd you end up in Forks, Washington?"

"Um." He picks at the label on his bottle humbly. "My dad's a doctor. He did the Doctors Without Borders thing until we were old enough to be in school, and then we moved back to the states. My grandparents were in Forks, so…here we are."

It's such a cool story, but I try not to embarrass myself by showing too much interest. "And when you say 'we'…"

"My sister and me," he clarifies. "She's a sophomore."

I try to picture his kind eyes and perfect smile on a girl, but his features are too masculine. I keep getting stuck on the sharp lines of his jaw and those thick brows.

I release a long, exaggerated sigh. "And then there's Connor."

He grins at me but says nothing. Awkward, I tug at the sleeves of my sweater, hoping I haven't overstepped my boundaries. "He's…something," I finally squeak out.

"That he is." He pulls his hood up to ward off the wind. The change does crazy attractive things to the angles of his face and, in turn, equally crazy things to my stomach. "He's my neighbor," he continues. "We've never been at the same school, but we hang out occasionally."

"Occasionally's about all I can take of Connor."

He laughs. "He's not so bad when he's sober."

"Yeah," I scoff. "Which is like, never."

He asks me how Connor and I know each other, and I tell him about my previous years at Forks and how I ended up at Prep. He's easy to talk to, and it doesn't hurt that he's also smart, funny, and painfully handsome.

Every now and then he leaves to get a drink, and I excuse myself to talk to a few of my old friends, but somehow we always end up back together. Around eleven, my phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I glance at it quickly to see a text from Rose.

_Heads up: Jake's here._

Oddly, I'm not bothered by this news at all.

"Sorry," I tell Mase, waving my phone around a bit. "It's my ride. Let me just answer this real quick."

"Yeah, no problem." He takes a long pull of his beer, and I try hard to focus on texting.

_Thanks. Where are you?_

She replies immediately. _Smoking with Tyler and Eric. I'll be down in a sec._

I pocket my phone and steal a glance at Mase.

"Everything good?" he asks.

I'm most likely a little buzzed, because when I answer, "So good," I don't even feel embarrassed.


	6. Chapter 6

The night gets cooler and cooler until, eventually, my teeth start to chatter. "Shit," Mase mutters when he notices. "I'm sorry. Here."

He unzips his hoodie and holds it out to me, taking care to help me guide my arms through the sleeves. It's still warm from his body, and it smells clean and fresh.

I thank him, watching helplessly as he curls his shoulders forward in defense against the biting wind.

When I ask if he wants to sit by the fire, he nods brusquely and leads the way, holding out his hand for mine when we squeeze through the tight crowd of party-goers. His skin is soft and warm, and those same long fingers that folded notes to me in class now engulf my hand nearly double.

We find an empty spot on a dry log, and he waits for me to sit down before stepping forward to stoke the fire. I'm kind of bummed to lose the warmth of his hand, but when he wedges in beside me so that we're thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, I get over it super quick.

"Fuck," he mutters, blowing into cupped hands. "It got cold fast."

I can't feel anything except the parts of me that are pressed tight against parts of him, but just as I'm about to agree, I hear my name.

Squinting through the haze of smoke, I'm not surprised to see Jake lumbering toward me with an embarrassing amount of forced swag. I watch wearily as he navigates the circle of haphazard logs, stopping just short of the one Mase and I share.

"Hey," I acknowledge him casually. "How's it going?"

"Hey," he replies, dismissing me quickly. He juts his chin in Mase's direction. "'Sup, man."

Mase's eyebrows pull together. "Uh…'sup?" He sounds pained, and it takes everything in me not to laugh.

Jake eyes the two of us suspiciously. "Who's your friend?" he asks me.

"Oh, uh…" I rest my hand on the firm thigh pressed against mine. "This is Mase. We go to Prep together. Mase, Jake. Jake, Mase."

Mase, bless him, pretends like my hand on his thigh is totally normal. "Good to see you," he greets Jake politely.

"You Connor's friend?"

"Neighbor," he clarifies, which, based on our earlier assessment of Connor, makes me snort.

Jake looks slightly uncomfortable, but he's never been great at reading social cues, so he makes no move to leave. "So…how you been, Bella?"

I burrow down into Mase's hoodie, breathing in his smell and basking in its warmth. "Pretty good."

"You didn't answer my texts."

_Awwwkward._

I clear my throat, searching for an excuse that won't embarrass him. Or me. He's not my favorite person, but I'm neither cruel nor brave enough to incite his temper.

Mase places his hand on top of mine, linking our fingers together and settling our clasped hands higher up on his thigh. It's his helpful attempt to defuse the situation with Jake, but my breathing speeds up in a very real way.

"Sorry," I croak. "I've had a lot going on."

Jake's eyes flick from my face to our hands a few times before he takes a small step backward.

"Yeah, well… I guess I'll see you around."

"Okay," I reply. "See ya."

He doesn't make it far before I slump against Mase's arm with an audible groan. "Sorry about that."

He makes no move to release my hand. "No worries."

"Thanks for—" I rub my thumb against his softly, uncertain of the best way to address Jake's and my history.

His shoulder bumps mine as he turns his head to peer down at me. He's so tall. So…right there. The fire casts shadows across his cheeks that make his eyelashes dance like feathers.

"He's your…ex?"

"Embarrassingly, yes."

"'_Suuup,_" he mocks lowly, making us both crack up.

His laugh is deep and rumbly, and he's so close I can see the strands of gold and copper woven through his beard. I think about running my fingers over it, but—despite how much we've shared tonight— it's a little _too_ invasive, _too _familiar. It occurs to me that I didn't even know Mase _existed_ a week ago, and the realization leaves me with a weird twinge of loyalty toward my old school, my old friends.

"I should probably go find Rose," I say softly. "She's my ride."

"'Kay." He knocks his knee playfully against mine. "You good?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

My hand, comfortable inside his, feels foreign and detached when he squeezes it gently and lets go, patting his thighs once before standing and stretching. His shirt rides up, revealing the elastic band of his boxers and a thin line of dark hair.

_Of course_, I think. Of course he has a stomach like that and hip bones like those and gray underwear covering what I'm certain is long and perfect and…

"Welp." I startle us both. "I'll see you Monday."

He looks confused for a second. "You're leaving, like, right now?"

"I really should. I still have to get Rose, and pulling her away from a party is surprisingly difficult."

We don't say much as we wind our way back down the cliff, eventually stopping just outside a makeshift parking lot. A circle of cars are gathered nose-to-nose, their headlights illuminating the small crowd that's formed in the center. I hear someone bellow Mase's name.

He raises a hand in acknowledgment, but turns to face me instead of joining the group. "I feel like we should trade numbers," he says quietly, tugging at the strings of the hoodie he loaned me. "You know, in case you have a question about how to get home or something."

"I live, like, a quarter of a mile from here," I tease him, grinning. "Technically, _you're _the one on the wrong side of the tracks."

He shrugs, a confident smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You never know."

"I'm actually sleeping at Rose's." I grab my phone from my back pocket and swipe my thumb across its screen. "But I agree. The streets are wild this time of night."

He reads his number off to me, and once I save it, I text him mine alongside a message: '_suuuup_**.**

His laugh makes my stomach flip.

"I'll see you Monday?"

"Yeah." I nod, smiling goofy. "I'll be there."

* * *

**You guys are so cool. Thanks for everything. **


	7. Chapter 7

Rose is several stages past wasted, so I drive us home, pull her car into the garage, and make sure she brushes and pees before putting her to bed.

I'm wide awake, though, jittery and flying high after my night with Mase. I replay our conversations while I wash my face and picture the way my hand looked in his while I slather on lotion. Thinking of his smile makes _me_ smile as I'm brushing my teeth, while his hoodie tempts me from the hook on the back of the bathroom door. He's already all over me, and I've only talked to him twice.

Jake's bullshit is still fresh enough for me to know that my interest in Mase has _Proceed With Caution _written all over it. It's my senior year, after all, and the last thing I really need is to get lost in some boy.

When I come back from the bathroom, Rose hasn't moved an inch, so I check to make sure she's okay before curling up behind her. Even though we still talk often, I've missed her this week. She's my best friend, and texting's just not the same.

Restless, I toss and turn beside her, pulling the covers up to my chin before getting annoyed and kicking them off again. My body feels like it's wound too tightly, and my head hurts from too little beer and too much thinking.

When my phone pings, I'm grateful for the distraction. I snatch it from the floor and sit up quickly.

A message from Mase fills the screen, and I freeze.

_No missed calls. You made it home without my help?_

I giggle quietly. _It was touch-and-go, but I managed._

_My ride home was super fun. Connor puked in my car._

I whisper-shout at the screen in horror. _Dude. He did not._

_He did, dude._

_Did you fucking murder him?_

_I wanted to._

_I can't believe you're neighbors with that guy. What a tool. _

_LOL_

_Oh! Hey! I accidentally took your hoodie. I'll bring it to school on Monday._

_Nah. Just keep it. _

_Seriously?_

_Yeah. It looks better on you._

I smash my face in Rose's pillow and squeal.

_If you say so…_

_I do._

My thumb hovers nervously over the screen for a few extra minutes.

_So…see you Monday?_

_Yep. _

_I'll be the one in the hoodie. _

_Lucky me._

I flail about, accidentally nudging Rose and making her groan. I pet her head for a second, and she rolls to her stomach, snoring lightly.

'_night, Mase. _

'_night, Bella._


	8. Chapter 8

Rose is less than pleasant in her hungover morning state, but after a few cups of coffee and a rundown of my night with Mase, she perks right up.

Why didn't she get to _meeet_ him, she whines. Probably because she spent her entire night smoking whatever with whomever. I don't say that, of course, and I also don't press her for details. It's better that way.

Well, when _cannn _she meet him? The idea of introducing Rose to Mase makes me squirm. She's my best friend, but she's a mess, and he's…perfect.

Can't she just call him on the _phoooone_? Dear god, the horror. Absolutely not.

She's annoyed with me, but I don't care. I'm protective of this…_thing_ with Mase and me, and I'm not ready to acknowledge it, much less share it with anyone else. It might not even _be_ anything at all. Maybe he just wants a friend. At a school like Prep, that's actually a very real possibility.

Rose backs off eventually, and the next two days pass quickly. By Sunday night, I'm so anxious to get back to school that I'm having trouble falling asleep. Quite a jump from last week, when I was too busy plotting my lunchtime disappearing act to focus on resting.

I've already been awake for hours by the time I make my way through the school's doors Monday morning. I spent way too long taming my hair…so I could pull it up in a messy bun, and an equally frustrating amount of time picking out my clothes…so I could hide them under Mase's hoodie.

My morning's off to a killer start.

By the time my lunch block rolls around, I haven't seen Mase at all. I did make a friend, though, so the day's not a complete wash. Angela's smart and pretty, and she has a raunchy sense of humor that makes me feel right at home. She introduces me to a few of her friends after class, and after only a week, I'm no longer eating lunch with the office staff.

Crisis averted.

She guides me through the lunch line, helping me learn what's safe and what's not, and then I follow her to a long table near the cafeteria's back windows. It's quieter there, almost hidden, and I'm grateful to be out of the public's eye. There's absolutely nothing private about being the new girl.

"You can sit there, Bella." Angela directs me to an empty seat catty-cornered from her tray. "You'll be by Katie, and she's harmless." She throws a glance down the still empty table. "This guy on the other hand…"

And suddenly there he is. Wide shoulders and long legs and complete perfection. I swallow hard.

"This guy what?" Mase plops down beside me, turning sideways in his seat so that I'm caged between his knees. If possible, he's even more attractive than he was at the party. With the moon and fire as our only light, I hadn't noticed the exact color of his eyes or the gentle swoop of his top lip.

Wait a minute…

"You shaved," I breathe. "Your face. It's…there."

He twists his lips to the side, rubbing his smooth chin. "You like?"

This time I can't help it. I lift my hand and run my fingers across his skin. He's soft but already slightly prickly, and—

"Uh...I take it you two know each other?" Angela's eyebrows are raised clear up to her hairline.

I snatch my hand back from Mase's face and drop it in my lap.

"We have math together," I reply casually.

"Riiight."

"What?"

"Nothing." She shrugs her shoulders innocently. "It's just…Tyler's in my math class, and I don't—" She pets her face and flutters her lashes at the empty seat beside her. "You know."

"I did _not _do that."

I don't want to look at either of them, so I busy myself with rearranging the food on my tray. Blessedly, Katie joins the table soon after, and Angela shifts her attention away from me.

I'm polite when I'm supposed to be, and I smile when it's expected, but all I can focus on is the way Mase's leg bounces steadily beside my own. The way his long fingers tap the tabletop to a rhythm only he can hear.

When he bumps my knee with his, I sneak a glance at his face. _Outside? _he mouths.

My chest feels funny as I scramble to gather my trash and untangle myself from the chair.

"Where're you two headed?" Angela sing-songs.

Mase stands, pats the pocket of his pants discretely, and says lowly, "I brought some bud. You wanna come?"

Her eyes light up. "Seriously?"

"No."

He grabs my backpack off the floor and slings it over his shoulder, ignoring the insults Angela hurls at him as he goes. I shoot her an apologetic look and hurry behind him, weaving through tables and people until, eventually, we pass through a side door that empties into the school's parking lot. It's shaded and sort of hidden, but there are several security guards patrolling the grounds and at least a camera or two.

I glance around nervously. "You're not seriously going to smoke out here."

"Nah." He laughs, setting my backpack down gently and leaning back against the stone wall. "They take that shit seriously around here."

"What a shame," I tease, mirroring his stance. "You were about to reach new levels of cool in my book."

His eyes narrow slightly, like he's measuring my seriousness. "Expulsion gets you goin', huh?"

I shrug. "I don't mind the occasional dropout."

"I…don't know if you're kidding right now."

I roll my eyes. "Of _course_ I'm kidding. My mom works here. Her hobby is grading papers. Do you really think I'd risk her life by bringing home a high school dropout?" I scoff. "She'd die."

"Your mom works here?"

"Lucky me, right?"

"Do I know her?" He cringes. "Oh shit. Do I _have _her?"

The thought of him sitting through one of Mom's classes is both adorable and terrifying, but I put his mind at ease. "I doubt you know her. She's in the English department, but she's not teaching classes this semester."

With a look of relief, he shifts to lean his shoulder against the wall. "So."

"So."

He grins, tugging at the bottom of my shirt. "You think I'm cool."

"Were," I correct. "I thought you _were_ cool."

"Judging from the other night, I'm not even sure that's a good thing."

"What?"

"You thinking I'm cool."

"Hey!" I smack his arm. "What the hell?"

He dodges playfully, rubbing the spot I hit. "It's just…that guy. Jake?"

"What about him?" I ask wearily.

"You obviously thought he was cool at one point, too."

I'm beginning to wonder if that mistake is going to follow me around forever.

"No," I deny. "I _momentarily_ thought that. Like, for a brief second."

He smirks, all cocky and knowing. "Mmhmm."

I roll my eyes. "And I'm sure your exes are all just _shining_ examples of flawless decision making."

My mind briefly tries to wander down the path of Mase's past, and I hate the way it feels. He's so attractive and such a flirt; there's no way there's not history there.

He doesn't say anything. All I get is a smile and a shrug.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

I stomp my foot, exasperated. "Are they?"

"I've never been with someone as cool as him, if that's what you're asking."

"You're completely infuriating."

"Aw, come on," he teases, playfully shaking my shoulders. "You know you like me."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I _barely_ do."

He laughs, and somehow, through a little shirttail tug-of-war, I'm suddenly in his space, standing closer than ever in the split of his spread legs. I finger the strings of his jacket, not really sure where to look.

"I like _you_," he says softly.

"You do?" I whisper.

He doesn't respond. At least not with words. One minute we're joking about maybe liking each other, and the next one we're kissing.

Sweet kisses. Steal your breath kisses.

His hand cups my jaw and I step further into the space between his legs. He's all full lips and sweet suction, and I know—more than I've ever known anything before—that my plans for senior year just suddenly got a whole lot more interesting.


	9. Chapter 9

Angela's all over me the next day in class, wanting to know what's going on with Mase and me. I tell her the truth: that I don't know.

I know he has sweet kisses and a fantastic tongue. I know he's a strong texter and only uses acronyms when absolutely necessary.

I know I like him. A lot.

I don't share any of this with her, of course. Our friendship's still too new, and I haven't figured out who I can and can't trust at this school. I'm not sure who my real friends are. Half the time I'm not even sure where the bathroom is.

After deflecting her questions for most of the block, my curiosity finally gets the best of me and I nose around a bit.

"So your friends seem cool," I say casually.

She thinks about it for second and then agrees. "Yeah, they mostly are."

"Katie's nice."

"Mmhmm."

"And Ben."

"Yep."

"And let's see, there's Leah…"

"Mmm."

"And Mase—"

"I knew it!" She points an accusing finger at me. "You want info on Mase." Before I can lie and deny, she throws her foot up on the desk and kicks back. "Go ahead." She grins. "Hit me."

"Uh…" I'm sort of panicked that she figured me out. "No, it's nothing. Just…like, you know. Is he a good guy or whatever?" Embarrassed, I study my nails.

"Mase?" She looks at me like I'm crazy. "Yeah, he's the best."

She doesn't waste any time telling me about his past. There's a junior—Lauren or whatever—that he spent most of last year with. Angela says she's cute and nice and that they're still friends, which seems kind of rare. I mean…I don't _hate_ Jake or anything, but I'd be totally fine if he stopped existing.

I don't press her much beyond that, for fear of being _that _girl, but Angela tells me there's not really any drama to report. He and the junior hooked up, stayed together for a few months, and then called it quits. Simple as that.

"Yeah?"

"I've known him since elementary school." She suddenly gets serious, leveling me with an intense glare. "He's seriously great."

"Why're you—" I wave my finger toward her face. "You look kinda scary."

She shrugs. "I'm just protective of him, that's all."

"God, Angela." I roll my eyes. "It's not like I'm trying to steal his virtue."

It was supposed to be a joke, but she doesn't laugh. She just stares.

"Right?" I squeak.

She cracks up. "I'm totally fucking with you, Bella. You couldn't steal Mase's virtue if you tried."

I don't think I want to know what that means, so I don't ask. "Well, thanks for the help." I furrow my brows. "I guess."

"In all seriousness," she says, pulling her feet from her desk and sitting forward. "You seem like a cool girl, and I love Mase like a brother. You could both do a lot worse."

I blush. "Thanks, Ange."


	10. Chapter 10

"So…Rose called me," Mase says.

I smack his arm. "Shut the fuck up."

"Ow!" He laughs. "I'm serious."

"No way."

"What's the big deal?"

"Uh, besides the fact that she's going to _die_?" I pull my phone out to text her. "Nothing."

"Settle down," he teases, pulling me forward by my belt loop until I fall on the bed beside him. My phone tumbles to the floor in the process, but I'm too distracted by his sudden closeness to care. "She was just looking out for you." He carefully smoothes the hair from my face. "And she actually seemed pretty cool."

"Yeah," I mutter. "If you think insanity's cool."

It's been a few weeks since things with Mase and me progressed to afternoons spent at each other's houses, and Rose has been bugging me about meeting him nearly every step of the way. It's not that I don't _want_ her to, it's just that I haven't had the opportunity. My transition from Forks to Prep was smoother than I expected, and despite my worries, I've grown to genuinely like my new friends. With the exception of Rose, I don't see my old ones much at all. I'd planned on getting the two groups together, and the fact that she couldn't wait makes me crazy.

Mase chuckles against my neck, and the vibration prickles my skin and makes my eyes slide shut. His fingers skim the space above my jeans in the simplest way. Like he was made to touch me.

_Rose who? _

When he finally finds my mouth, I cling to his shoulders, loving the way he moves my body where he wants it.

"Is Lizzy home?" I whisper between kisses.

His nod is a gentle reminder that we need to chill out. Mase's sister is just as cool as he is, but nobody deserves to walk in on their brother with his ass in the air.

Our kisses roll from deep to playful and back again, until he eventually places a smacking kiss to my mouth and moves to sit up. I lie sprawled and heaving on his bed, waiting for my breathing to level out. When he winces and tugs at the front of his pants, I blush and drop my eyes. He's open and honest when it comes to the things we do to each other's bodies, and though it makes my stomach flip to think about how he earned his confidence, I can't deny how attractive it is. He says what he likes and takes what he wants, and his boldness makes me burn.

Later, when we're safely in his kitchen with our books spread out before us, curiosity gets the best of me.

"Do I even want to know what you talked about?"

"When?" Mase finishes the equation he's solving and leans back in his chair. "With Rose?"

"Yeah."

He shrugs. "It wasn't a big deal. Like I said, she was just looking out for you."

I'm still angry with her for meddling, so I shake my head and scoff. "She's not looking out for me; she's nosy."

"I think she wanted to make sure I'm not another Jake—"

"Oh god."

"—but I'm _pretty_ sure that guy's one of a kind."

We both crack up.

"So that's it?" I press. "That's all she said?"

"Pretty much."

I know Rose better than I know myself, though, and this version of her sounds too nice. "She didn't like, threaten you or anything. Right?"

He smirks.

I knew it. Groaning, I bury my head in my arms. "I hate her."

Mase laughs and tugs at my hands until I look up. "You don't."

"I do."

When I finally meet his eyes, my cheeks burn with embarrassment. He smiles sweetly and laces his fingers through mine. "I won't. You know that, right?"

"What," I ask miserably.

"Hurt you."

Dropping my gaze, I let myself think about his declaration. There's a lot I don't know about Mase, but there's so much I _do._ I know he's not perfect, and that it's okay, because neither am I. I know he's got a past and a life that happened before me, and I know that I respect it, because I've got one, too. I know he's a good friend and brother and son, and that he's mature and caring and kind.

But do I know he'd never hurt me?

I squeeze his hand and smile real wide. "Yeah," I say softly. "I know."


	11. Chapter 11

After several weekends in a row spent hanging out with Mase and our friends, I finally give in to my parents' not-so-subtly dropped hints and stay home on Saturday night. With Halloween just around the corner, I need to pay my daughterly dues now if I want to be let out later.

I bake cookies with my mom and pretend to watch sports with my dad. I even make a conscious effort to limit my texts to a handful each hour.

Baby steps.

At dinner, my dad wipes his mouth with his napkin and fixes me with a stare. "Your mother and I are driving down to Nonnie's next weekend. We've still got a lot to do before we can list the house."

My grandmother died unexpectedly last summer, and as her only son, my dad's been pinned with the task of settling her estate.

"Sorry, Daddy," I say softly.

My brother and I spent weeks at a time with Nonnie growing up, and her death still doesn't seem real, even after all these months. I have no idea how my dad finds the strength to sort through her things and box them up.

He clears his throat roughly. "Hopefully not much longer."

I smile sweetly, because my parents—bless their hearts—think it saddens me when they're gone. "No worries." I pat his hand. "You just take all the time you need."

He rolls his eyes. "Jared's coming home."

"What?" I groan. "No! I don't need a babysitter."

"He's your _brother_, Bella. He'll look after you."

"Jared?" I screech. "He used to sit on me until I couldn't _breathe_. I thought I was going to _die_." I throw a sarcastic thumbs up their way. "Nice parenting. He sounds like a _great_ babysitter."

My dad stands up to clear his plate. "Don't be dramatic."

"This isn't dramatic," I shout. "I'm perfectly calm."

"You could always come with us," my mom suggests casually. "If you'd rather."

I throttle back a bit, because god, could anything be worse? "No, thanks, " I grumble. "I'll suffer through Jared's visit."

"Jared loves you," she scolds. "It'll be good for the two of you to spend some quality time together. You can watch those old movies you love."

My eyeroll is so intense it physically pains me. "Those were Pokemon videos, and I was twelve."

She ignores me and begins cleaning up.

"It's Halloween weekend!" I moan. "Don't you even _care_ that you're ruining a holiday?"

"Halloween's not a holiday, Bella."

I'm about to argue with her about how very much a holiday it actually _is_, when an idea hits me like a slap in the face.

I pull my phone out and fire off a text to every friend I've ever made far and wide.

_You fuckers up for a Halloween party? My house. See you there._

* * *

**_A few things: a) you guys are the absolute best, b) despite its suspicious title, this story won't ever be anything more than light-hearted fluff, so if you're angst-anxious, worry not, c) quick declarations of love for Tiff, Nic, Kim, Shell, Carrie, Melanie, and Iris, for being so supportive. And BelleBiter, because her notes make me cry. XO_**


	12. Chapter 12

Rose is dressed like a whoreish devil the first time she officially meets Mase.

In place of a formal greeting, she opts for a head-to-toe body scan and a critical, "Where's your costume?"

"Mase doesn't _do_ costumes," I tease, giving his t-shirt a tug.

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders good-naturedly, just like he did when I asked what he planned to wear.

"Uh...jeans?" he'd said.

"No, like, what _costume_."

"My...jean one?"

I didn't force the issue. He's way too fucking sweet to argue with.

Rose is less impressed. "How very creative," she says dryly.

Annoyed, I open my mouth to comment on how ridiculous she's acting, but before I can, Mase beats me to it. "A devil, though." He puffs his cheeks. "_There's_ something you don't see every day."

I'm torn between the need to laugh and the urge to flee, and as usual, laughter wins. I expect Rose to freak, but she surprises me by muttering a playful _fuck off _and abandoning us in search of alcohol. I guess Mase passed her stupid test.

Relieved and a little proud, I rise to my toes and press silly kisses all over his jaw until he jostles me off and ducks his head to meet my mouth. "_I_ like your jeans," I whisper against his lips.

He angles me back enough to see what I'm wearing. "I like your—" His eyebrows slide up when he notices my boots and bare legs.

"Horseback riding, remember?"

He swallows hard. "You ride horses in _that_?"

"I've actually never ridden one," I admit. "But if I _did_—"

"I'm pretty sure you shouldn't."

"Right, but if I _did_—"

"Oh god," he groans, burying his face in my neck. "_Please_ invite me when you do."

My giggle ends abruptly when I hear the sound of my brother's voice behind us. "Uh...what the fuck is all this?"

Jared agreed to provide the beer for tonight as long as I promised to take full responsibility of the party. He's been holed up in his room until now, and admittedly, I'd hoped he planned to stay there.

Untangling myself, I fix my glare on Jared. "All _what_?"

He ignores me and points at Mase. "Who're you?"

"Jared," I scold. "Don't be an asshole."

"You said 'Halloween get-together.'" He curls his fingers around the words. "You didn't say anything about _this_."

"_This_," I snap, "is Mase."

Mase, to his credit, meets my brother's glare head-on. "Nice to meet you, man." He politely extends his hand toward Jared, who stares at it for a few tense seconds before gripping it firmly. He looks like a fucking moron in his one-piece Spider-Man leotard, and I take a moment to tell him so.

His eyes narrow to slits. "Does Dad know about this?"

"About what?" I laugh. "Your onesie?"

He tries to put his hands on his hips like he's serious business, but the spandex is too slippery and they just slide right off. "No, idiot. That you have a guy here."

My stomach churns at his flippancy. "Dad's met Mase," I reply. "He likes him."

"Has Dad seen you suck his face like that?"

_Fucker._

Thankfully, I'm not above a little bribery. "_No_…and if you say anything, I'll tell him about the little cashed out surprise you left on the back patio last night."

A brief hint of fear flashes across his face. "It helps me study," he growls.

"Jer," I pretend soothe, "it's fine. I'm sure our cop father will _completely_ understand."

His face turns sort of purple, and I realize I've probably pushed him too far. I don't think he'd embarrass me at my own party…but I also never thought he'd wear that costume. I hide behind Mase's shoulder just in case.

"Fine," he bitterly concedes. "But nobody goes in my room."

I roll my eyes. "Duh."

"And absolutely no techno."

"Jared."

"Bella."

"I would never."

I grab Mase's hand and drag him as far away from my brother as possible, which in this case is the backyard. Rose is sitting on a patio chair smoking, surrounded by several people from Forks, and I stutter for a second about what to say. I've never had to define what Mase and I are, and it stresses me out that I feel compelled to now. Obviously we're more than friends, but labeling us feels presumptuous and weird.

"Guys," I announce unceremoniously. "This is Mase."

Thankfully, my friends are either too cool or too blitzed to notice, and Mase, as always, is kind and friendly to everyone. It's one of my favorite things about him. He's the nicest, most likable guy ever.

Angela shows up with Katie and Ben and a few others from Prep, and before I know it, several hours have passed, the backyard's packed, and the music's way too loud. At Jared's request, we keep it techno-free, but that doesn't stop people from acting like fools.

When Connor strips to his unders and jumps in the pool, a crowd gathers around to watch, waiting for the moment clarity hits and he realizes it's nearly November and the water's really fucking cold.

"What an idiot," Jared scoffs, coming up beside Mase and me. We watch Conner shiver miserably, and then I scan my brother's costume up and down to let him know he's not in any position to be throwing stones.

Everyone's laughing, and although it's at Connor's expense, my heart feels kind of full seeing my old friends and new ones all gathered together.

"It's getting cold," I whisper, leaning back against Mase's chest. "You wanna head inside?"

He lets me grab his hand and lead him in, but I don't miss the way he checks to be sure my brother's not watching. We pass old friends and new ones on the way upstairs, and once we're safely in my room, I turn and lock the door. Living with Jared has taught me that much.

Mase snoops around for a bit while I do a quick once-over and kick away all signs of my laundry aversion. He lifts a picture of Rose and me from the frame around my mirror and gives it a wide smile. "Look how pretty you are."

I return his smile softly, then sit on the edge of my bed and watch him as he studies it.

"Where were you guys? The cliffs?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "That was the week before I started at Prep. My pity party."

He puts the photo back gently and turns to face me. "Does it still bother you?"

"That I switched to Prep?"

"Yeah."

It seems outlandish, the thought of fighting against a life that includes Mase. "Not even a little."

He crosses to the edge of the bed and stands between my legs. "Me neither," he says softly. He presses his palms to mine and twines our fingers together. "I kinda don't know what I did before you."

"Well, it's Prep," I tease, "so probably not much."

For the first time ever, he doesn't laugh. He pushes the hair from my neck and kisses my temple. "Be my girl?" he asks so simply.

It's a silly formality, but it makes my heart sing. I claw at his shirt, desperate to pull him closer even though he's just right there. "Yeah," I whisper, kissing his cheeks and chin and finally, his mouth. "Of course."

* * *

**I was out of town this week, and while I was gone FicSisters Ihoff made me a banner, TLS gave me a shoutout, and you guys made my ego all swole. You're the best. **


	13. Chapter 13

Still high on him and his words, things escalate quickly. I lie back on my bed and Mase climbs to his knees between mine. He brushes his lips over my neck and whispers words against my ear that make my eyelids flutter and my heart soar.

"Look how good we fit," he says softly. We're a tangled mess of limbs and wandering hands, mine gripping tightly and his roaming freely. It's not the first time we've been alone on a bed and greedy to touch...but it's different this time because now I'm his girl.

I feel it, too, how well we match. It's in the way my arms cage him in and how his long legs nudge to spread mine wider. It's how his chest presses me into the mattress and how his hips, when he drops them, line the softness of me up with the hardness of him.

When he circles, I cry out, and he kisses my mouth to stifle the sound. His warm palm slides under my shirt, across my belly, and over my chest. "Lift up," he says softly.

He's gentle taking off my shirt and bra, smoothing his hands over newly bared skin and stopping often to kiss my mouth. He sees my bare chest for the first time through hooded eyes, and feeling bold, I let him stare. When he bends and takes me in his mouth, I make sounds that are new and embarrassing and totally real.

"Shh." His lips climb the path from my chest to my neck to, finally, my mouth.

Matching his movements, I slide my palms up Mase's flat stomach and free him from his tee. The feel of his warm chest against mine and the weight of his hips pinning me down is nearly too much. "Mase," I beg, confused and a little desperate.

He kisses me with swollen lips and a dangerous tongue. "What?" he asks quietly.

"Can you...just..."

I can tell by the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips and the way he pops the button on my shorts with exaggerated focus that he's teasing me. "Can I what?"

I try hard not to whine or grind myself against his hand, and when his fingers slowly push into the warmest part of me, a quiet sigh is the only sound I make.

"Okay?" he murmurs, pressing his forehead to my temple.

Barely able to nod, I take what I need from his fingers. His strong jaw drops open in concentration, and I climb higher. Together we watch the tan skin of his arm contrast against the starkness of my belly as it moves beneath my shorts.

I cling to him, loving the way he touches and takes, and when I finally fly high, it's his sweet face that keeps me grounded.

Mase's chest heaves in time with mine as I slowly resurface. "Shit." He pulls his hand away and buries his face in my neck with a groan. "That was..."

I giggle and cover my face with my hands, doing all the girly things I swore I never would. My head spins and my body feels like liquid. Mase makes happy feel like it's never felt before.

"Want me to…" I wag my eyebrows and nod at the noticeable bulge in the front of his jeans.

He full-on cracks up. "You're so cute."

"Hey!" I push at his bare chest. "I'm trying to be nice!"

We wrestle around playfully, but I'm still topless and he's got messy hair and heavy-lidded eyes, so it comes full circle again fast. "You have to get dressed," he groans, scrubbing at his face. "Otherwise I'll never leave."

"Who cares?" I pull his hands away and kiss his mouth. "Let's stay up here forever."

"Trust me, I'd love to. But"—he looks at me hesitantly—"your brother kind of freaks me out."

Leave it to Jared to ruin my life. "Oh yeah," I grumble. "Him."

We begrudgingly pull our shirts back on, stealing sly glances and silly kisses along the way. I help tame Mase's hair, and he gently rubs a thumb over the tender spot where his whiskers scratched my chin.

"Hey," he says softly, tugging on my hand as I lead us down the stairs.

I stop and turn to face him. "Yeah?"

"I meant what I said earlier." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "About you changing schools. I know it wasn't easy, and...I'm so fucking glad you did."

I could tell him that I've had that same thought on repeat since the first day I met him, but instead I rise to my toes and place a soft kiss on sweet lips. "Me too."

* * *

**I love you all so hard. (Jandco, you can't even imagine the amount of hyperventilating that went on when your name showed up in my inbox.)**


	14. Chapter 14

"We're just shocked, Bella. We expected this from Jared...but _you_?"

"Uhh…" I try really hard to keep the brat at bay. "You brought him here to _babysit_ me. Your logic seems incredibly flawed."

"Bella," my dad warns.

We've been sitting at the kitchen table interrogation-style for the past hour. A lone beer bottle stands in the center like a representative of my parents' disappointment.

"Help us understand, baby," my mom pleads. "What would make you _do_ something like this?"

I'm still not entirely sure which sin they're referring to, so I tread lightly. "Something like…"

"This!" Mom gestures wildly at the bottle. "Teenage drinking!"

"Riiight." Confused, I narrow my eyes. Is it possible they don't know about the party? "I was just...curious," I say meekly. Then, because I can't leave well enough alone, "Momma."

She gives me a sympathetic smile, and I know I've totally got this. I'm a genius, and I've successfully talked my way out of—

"Cut the crap," my dad snaps. "Was it just the one?"

"The one…"

"Beer, Bella. Did you only buy one?"

I seriously can't believe this is happening. There's a gigantic party, friends for miles, a handsome boy in my bed, and an idiot brother who actually kept my secret. Best of all, there's only one forgotten beer bottle to show for it. "Yes, Daddy," I reply softly. "Just the one."

He scowls under thick, cop-trained brows. "I don't believe you. But Jared's not talking and your mother's too nice, so I'm letting you walk." He points a finger at me accusingly. "For now."

_Oh, lord._

"Go upstairs, Bella," my mom says softly. "I think it's best you stayed in tonight. You need time to think about what you've done."

"Because of the beer?" I double check, nodding at the empty bottle. "Right?"

My dad rolls his eyes, muttering words about _born yesterday_ and _goddamned fool_, but I stand and kiss my mother's cheek, retreating to my room before they change their minds.

Thankful they didn't confiscate my phone, I tap out a few brief texts to explain my recent disappearance.

The first, to my brother, is quick and to-the-point. _Mom and Dad found beer...Good news is I'm only grounded for the night. Bad news is I'm still pissed you bailed and left me with the mess. _

Jared's a hunt-and-peck texter and a serial ALL CAPSer, so I don't waste my time waiting on his reply. Instead, I flip to Mase's and my ongoing text thread and update him as well.

_Hiii. _

_You survived. _His response is almost instant. _How'd it go? _

_Better than I thought. I'm stuck at home tonight, but otherwise…_

_Close call. How'd they find out?_

I explain the beer that we overlooked in our haste to clean up, hidden behind a carton of milk and a tall stack of pre-made dinners. It could've been worse, I tell him. I was anticipating six or eight weeks of solitary confinement.

_I'm glad it's just one night. I miss you._

My thumbs fly across the screen, adding three full lines of love-filled emoticons before I come to my senses and backspace them away. _I miss you, too. _

_I miss those shorts. _

I blush, hiding my grin in my shoulder.

_And that loud mouth._

Burrowed beneath my covers in the exact spot where he kissed and touched and took the night before, my stomach flip-flops. Feeling brave behind my phone's small screen, I feed off his honesty. _I miss your hands. _

His reply takes a moment. _M__y...back scratches? _

He's obviously teasing me, because he's fun and cute and perfect, but even still I squeeze my eyes shut and peck out the words quickly. _No, your fingers. _

_When I...play the piano?_

Laughing, I roll my eyes. _Yes. I like your fingers when you play the piano._

_I'm just trying to understand! _

_Want me to spell it out for you?_

_I think so, yeah. _

Way less nervous than before, I bury my head in my pillow and take a moment to think back on all the best parts of last night. Taking Mase's cue, I go with the truth. _Fine. I like your fingers when they're in my shorts. Touching me. Making my mouth loud. _

I've barely hit the "send" button when my phone rings. I giggle and swipe my thumb over the screen. "Hi," I whisper.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Mase's voice is playful and familiar, and it makes me miss him so much more.

"I thought you just wanted to understand."

He sighs miserably, and I can picture him scrubbing his hands over his face. "I understand plenty."

I grin into the darkness of my room. "What're you doing?"

"Homework," he grumbles. "What're _you _doing? Besides torturing me."

"I'm in bed."

"Bella."

"What?" I laugh. "I really am. My parents are mad at me, and there's nothing else to do."

He's quiet for a minute. "Let me come over."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," he says softly. "Later. After they're asleep. Let me come see you."

I've never had a boy in my room until Mase, and certainly not when my parents were sleeping down the hall. The thought of my dad finding out makes me downright queasy, but this is _Mase. _I'll take every moment with him I can get.

"Okay," I agree. "I'll text you when they go to bed."

We talk about the easiest way for him to get in, finally deciding that coming right through the front door is the least risky.

"I'm fucking scared." He groans. Then, as an afterthought, "You'll have to be super quiet."

"Will I have a reason to be loud?"

"Absolutely."

My stomach clenches in nervous anticipation. "I can't wait," I whisper. "See you soon."

* * *

Mase stays on the porch while I make sure my parents are fully asleep. I wave him through the front door with a finger to my lips, then laugh when he moves it aside to kiss me. We've only been apart for a day, but I'm already glad he's back.

Upstairs, safely behind my locked bedroom door, our touches reach new levels of confidence. He must feel the shift, too, because he grabs my hand and tugs me down on the bed with familiar ease. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he says quietly.

"Doing what?"

"Sneaking into your room. With the"—his voice drops to a whisper—"Chief of Police asleep down the hall."

I hush him with a kiss, and not surprisingly, things escalate quickly. I'm not sure if it's the line we crossed last night or the build-up since day one, but we don't waste any time playing coy. Mase's hands go right for my shirt, and eager to match his pace, I help him pull it off.

"Shit," he breathes when he sees that I'm braless. He moves back against my headboard and tugs on my hips until I'm hovering over him. His mouth is hot and wet against my chest, and although it doesn't seem possible, it's even better today than it was last night.

Remembering his warnings, I stifle my groans, letting my body talk for me instead. My legs move to each side of his, and I lower myself down gently on his lap. I smile slyly when his eyes slide closed and his head drops back with a thud.

"What's the matter?" I tease, rolling my hips against his.

He ignores me, gripping my waist with his hands and tugging firmly. As if committed to memory, the feel of him pressed against me makes my body act on instinct, but I quickly still my movements, determined to make tonight about him.

Sliding back against his thighs, I admire how good he looks when he's coming undone. He's heavy-lidded eyes and flushed-pink cheeks. "Take this off," I whisper, pushing his tee up his chest. Quick to comply, he grips the neck and pulls it over his head, tossing it to the floor.

"And these." I flick the button on his jeans, watching anxiously as he unfastens them completely. He's..._right there_, lying long and hard against his stomach, covered by nothing but a thin layer of cotton. I swallow. "All the way."

Mase's breathing speeds up, but he pushes his pants down his hips like I asked. I move to my knees, tugging denim underneath me and leaving them bunched around his thighs. The way he's watching me, all enamored and disheveled, sends a rush of warmth to my belly.

I reach out to touch the cotton-clad line of him, watching as he twitches against my hand. "You can be quiet," I breathe, palming him gently. "Right?"

He nods his head, but when the implication behind my words catches up to him, his heavy lids slide shut. I lean forward and press a kiss to his sweet mouth before moving down and placing another against his chest. As my kisses drop lower, his stomach clenches and his hands fist my sheets.

When I pull the waistband of his boxers down past his hips, he groans. "Shh," I remind gently, pressing my lips against his tip. He's swollen and heavy when I take him in my hand, and when I kiss and lick the parts that I can reach, his hips rise instinctively, pushing him further in my mouth.

I read his cues to learn what he likes, sucking harder when he throws an arm over his eyes and moving faster when his thighs start to twitch. It's not long before he rasps a warning and tries to pull his hips away. When I don't stop, he groans long and low, pulsing against my tongue a few times before spilling into my mouth. I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow, moving my hand over his slick skin before gently sliding off.

I'm nearly numb with pleasure at the thought of him in my hand...in my _mouth_. It's not the first time I've done something like this, but it's the only time I've ever enjoyed it. Mase doesn't move when I tuck him back into his unders. "Are you alive?" I finally whisper, poking at his chest.

"Barely."

I giggle and climb back up his legs. "Should I get my dad? I think he knows CPR."

"Not funny," he groans. His playful fingers dig into my thighs, making me jump away and squeal.

He tackles me gently and covers my mouth with his hand. "You're so loud."

"Me!" I whisper-screech, squirming to get free. "I've been quiet all night!"

He silences my protests with a kiss. "If he hears us, I'm fucked."

Our faces are inches apart, and I'm suddenly very aware of how bare-chested we are. I free my arms and wrap them around his neck. "Is it worth the risk?"

"God," he murmurs. "You have no idea."

* * *

Halloween bleeds into Thanksgiving, and before I know it, it's nearly Christmas. It pains me to admit it—and I'd never tell my parents—but senior year has been my best year yet. Classes at Prep are challenging and rewarding, pushing me to explore new sides of myself that I didn't even know existed. Thanks to teachers who teach with passion rather than obligation, Language Arts has become more of an interest and less of a chore. An untapped love of photography, once recognized, even landed me a spot on the school's newspaper team.

My classmates are dedicated and more mature than those from Forks, and while I still miss Rose like crazy, I like that my new friendships are based on more than juicy gossip and shared weed. We visit museums for extra credit and hike wooded trails in nature. We swap books and music, defending our tastes and encouraging each others' quirks and whims. Angela's a vegan-turned-yogi-turned-trail runner, but she's also the most dedicated and selfless friend I've ever had, so I support her ever-changing mind with ease. There are still mistaken hook-ups and bad canned beer, but these people feel like friends for life, and I can't help but love them deeply.

And then there's my silver lining. The reason I'd change schools senior year a hundred times over. The reason I stay up late and rush to class early. The reason my smile stretches wide and my body flies high.

Mase.

I love him. With my whole entire heart, I love him.

But college is looming, and no matter how hard I try to make them, plans after graduation just don't make sense. He's the Science to my English and the East Coast to my West.

He can't change his dreams, and I won't be the girl who makes him.

* * *

**To Tiff, my hand-holder and best friend. **


	15. Chapter 15

Mase and I talk about everything _except_ college. It's the inevitable elephant standing sadly in the center of every room. The closer we inch toward graduation, the less avoidable it seems. I find temporary solace in a pretend world where my future with him is concrete.

He's headed to Duke, his top school of choice, and when his letter arrived, I kissed him and told him I was happy. And I _am_…even if I'm dying inside.

My congratulatory email from Portland State has been in my inbox for weeks now, but I'm not nearly as excited as I probably should be. Portland's been part of my plan all along. It's far enough from my parents to feel liberating, yet close enough to visit. It's nowhere near my crazy brother, and—a more recent requirement—it's home to a strong Liberal Arts department. What it's missing, though, is my favorite boy. He'll be three-thousand miles and nine states away.

I know because I've counted.

_Six months ago you didn't know him_, I remind myself near daily. Six months ago, my heart was basic and unchanged. I went to school and hung out with my friends and existed just fine in a Mase-free world.

It's amazing what half a year can do.

* * *

"And so…and so _Mase_, this skinny ass _kid_, he jumped off the _roof_ and into the _pool_!" Connor's guffaw can be heard for miles. It's a funny enough story, but _god_.

"Ugh," I mutter, pressing my face into Mase's chest. "Help."

He laughs and kisses the top of my head. "Be nice."

"Bella!" Connor calls, oblivious. "Bella, has Mase told you that? About when he was younger?"

"Uh…no." I lift my head. "That one's new."

"You _totally_ should've been there!"

"Totally."

I feel Mase's body vibrate with laughter from my spot against his chest. Connor's our common link (unfortunately), and he's made it his personal mission to fill me in on the previous seventeen years of Mase's life that I missed. It's fucking brutal.

Mase wraps his arms around my back and presses his lips to my ear. "Wanna walk?"

"God, yes."

He holds my hand, and together we navigate the cliff's rocky terrain with only the light of the moon and the nearby bonfire. "Careful," he murmurs, putting an arm around my waist.

Rose sits twisted up in some new boy at the bottom of the ledge. I wave as we approach them, throwing a subtle look her way. _Who's this? _She ignores me, but her guy raises his arm in recognition. "Mase!" he bellows, rising to his feet.

He's even taller than Mase, with huge shoulders and a friendly smile. He moves to meet us, and begrudgingly, Rose follows. Whoever he is, she'd obviously hoped to keep him a secret.

Mase hugs him, slapping his back and calling him McCarty, but Rose wrinkles her nose in distaste. "Actually," she corrects, "it's Emmett_." _

I shake his massive hand politely. "And…how do we know _Emmett_?"

She rolls her eyes. "_We _met him here a few weeks ago, when you ditched me to hang out with lover boy."

"I did _not_ ditch you. I spent that entire weekend studying."

"Yeah, studying lover boy."

She's right, but I'm certainly not going to admit it now. "Whatever."

Mase's hand returns to my waist. "McCarty went to Prep," he tells me, then turns back to his friend. "I thought you were at FSU."

"Yeah." Emmett rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "Lost my ride when I tore my shoulder. Second game of the season."

"That fucking blows, man," Mase replies genuinely. "Sorry to hear it."

"It's all good." Emmett slings his arm around Rose's shoulders. "I've got my girl and my mama's home cookin'. Feels good to be back."

His _girl_?

Mase must sense the awkward tension between Rose and me, because he squeezes my hip and moves us back a step. "Well, I'm here until August," he tells his friend. "Give me a call sometime."

"Sure thing," Emmett agrees. He turns to me and smiles slyly. "Good to finally meet you, Bella. I've heard a lot about you."

I glare at Rose. "_Reeeally_."

She knows she's in trouble for keeping this from me, and a defensive Rose is a mean Rose. She narrows her eyes at Mase. "See you later, loverboy."

As always, Mase takes the high road and ignores her. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads back down the beach. I trail after him. "Bye, _McCarty_!" I call. "I'm so glad you're home. _With your girl_."

I can see Rose's middle fingers even as I'm retreating. "Suck it, Bella!"

"Eat a dick, Rose!"

When I catch up with Mase, he lifts his arm to let me in against his side and slows his footsteps to match mine. "You two have the sweetest friendship."

I crack up. "She can't help that she's nuts."

"Well, McCarty's a really good guy."

"Rose is good, too," I promise him. "You just have to give her time."

He doesn't say anything, and I can't really blame him. Rose has been pretty hard on him since the beginning. I tell him that I appreciate the way he handles her with maturity and ease, but his only response is a soft kiss to my temple.

We walk in comfortable silence for a bit, our gait slow and stilted due to the arms I keep wrapped around his waist. It's cold, but his skin is warm, and when I press my fingers under his shirt and against his stomach, he hisses but doesn't laugh. Something's wrong.

"You okay?" I ask softly.

He remains quiet, barely nodding his head

"Is it Rose?" I press. "Don't let her get to you. Believe it or not, that was her fucked up way of showing you she cares."

"No, Rose is…whatever. She's fine."

I stop walking and, tangled up as we are, he stops, too. "What then?"

He scrubs his hands over his face. "So they're just, like…together now?"

"Who?"

"Rose and Emmett."

I'm not following. I know he and Emmett are friends, but they obviously aren't_ that_ close. I don't understand why this is bothering him so much. "I…guess."

"It's so fucking unfair," he mutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I mean, yeah, I'm happy for them…fine, but this…" He lifts his chin at me. "It doesn't feel right."

My stomach drops and my ears ring. I've never considered that continuing on toward a future that guarantees our separation might not interest him. The thought of him wanting something different makes me queasy. "What doesn't?" I whisper.

"This." He throws his hands up. "He's here with her, and I'm…I'm going all the way to fucking North Carolina."

"But I thought that's what you wanted."

"I did. I _do. _I just…I don't want to leave you."

"Mase," I murmur, catching his hands in mine. Our fingers twist together, and when he tugs and pulls me forward, I go to him willingly. My limbs feel heavy with the weight of his worry, but I don't know how to tell him that it's going to be okay.

His arms band around my shoulders, and he presses his forehead to my temple. "I just started loving you," he says sadly. "I'm not ready to stop."

A mixture of relief and contentment floods through me, so sweet it blurs my vision. Worry fades away, and there's only peaceful confidence in its wake.

I move my hands to his face, rubbing my fingers across his whiskers until he pulls his eyes to mine. "I've loved you all along," I whisper. "You don't have to stop."

He bends down as I rise to my toes, pressing our lips together sweetly. "Promise me we'll make this work," he breathes against my mouth.

"I swear."


	16. Chapter 16

Every year, Mase's family heads south for spring break, and this year they invite me. They're the nicest people ever, but my dad's a total weirdo, so he tells me I can't go.

"But _why?"_

"Because I said so."

"You know." I narrow my eyes at him. "I read somewhere that you're not supposed to say that to your children. It stifles their curiosity and teaches them to blindly follow others' commands."

His mustache twitches. He'd never admit it, but he loves a well-played rebuttal. "We should never have let them teach you to read."

"Dad." I draw out the word. "Please let me go. I'm eighteen. I make good grades. I even keep my room clean!"

"Your room is never clean."

"But it _will _be!

Aside from the minor slip-up with the forgotten beer a few months ago, I haven't done anything to abuse my parents' trust. Well…nothing that they _know_ of. My dad's got a memory a mile long, though, and he never forgets.

"I don't like him."

"You don't like _who_?"

"That boy."

"Mase," I correct, rolling my eyes. "And yes, you do."

"All that mess on his face…How old is he again?"

My sigh sounds like I'm dying. "He's eighteen, Dad."

He scowls. "I've seen bad things happen to girls like you on these kinds of trips."

Despite the cop-dad guilt trip, I consider the fact that he's still talking about Mase's family's offer a win. "Girls like me?" I repeat scornfully. "You mean ones with good grades and clean rooms?"

His mustache twitches again. "That's it," he declares. "You're grounded."

"Dad," I groan. "Be serious."

"Hashtag: real deal."

"Oh my god." I bury my face in my hands. "You're so embarrassing."

He lets me wallow for a bit, eventually tugging on the tips of my hair to get my attention. When I look up, he's traded his scowl for a cautious smile.

"Separate bedrooms," he warns.

I squeal and jump.

"And no drinking."

I do a little dance.

"Make sure you check in daily."

I hug him tight.

"You know how much Mom worries."

"I love you, Daddy."

"Love you, too, kiddo."

* * *

Mase can't believe it when I share the news with him. "He just...said yes?"

"Well he made me work for it," I clarify, holding my phone up with my shoulder. "But, yeah. Eventually he said yes."

"Dude," he laughs, mimicking my go-to expression. He sounds excited and adorable and, god, so sweet.

"I know, dude."

Mase walks me through the plans for our trip. We'll fly into San Diego with his family and spend the week at a house they've rented on the beach in La Jolla. As he talks, I start to feel a little guilty about how much my presence is going to shift their family traditions and dynamics.

"Does Lizzie mind?"

"What?"

"Me tagging along."

"Lizzie loves you," he reassures me. "Besides, my parents are letting her bring Allie."

"Wait. Isn't that…Connor's sister?"

Mase chuckles. "Don't worry. She's nothing like him."

I'm not sure how I feel about spending a week with someone who shares the same genetic makeup as Connor, but if Mase says she's cool, she probably is. "Do you think we'll share a room?" I press. "The girls and me?"

"I'm not sure. You know how my parents are…"

I do. Mase's parents are the opposite of mine. They're laid back and open-minded. They trust that their kids will make good choices, and in return, they (mostly) do.

"My dad said separate bedrooms."

"Oh." Mase clears his throat, but not before I hear the surprise in his voice. We've never talked about it, but I'm sure he assumed I'd stay with him if given a choice. "Well, there'll be plenty of space, so that shouldn't be a prob—"

"Mase."

"Yeah?"

"What my dad doesn't know won't hurt him."

He laughs, equal parts relieved and nervous. "Yeah, but what he _does _know might hurt _me._"

"He won't find out," I promise. "We'll just have to keep it quiet."

"_I_ can be quiet." His voice is playfully smug. "It's _you_ I worry about."

My cheeks flare at his innuendo. We've been toeing the barely there line for weeks—in our cars, in his room after school, during secret nights in my bed—but keeping my enthusiasm in check never gets any easier. I can only imagine how good it's going to be when we stop holding back.

"How many more days?" I ask, hoping he knows that I'm talking about more than our vacation.

"Five."

"Ugh," I groan. "That's too long."

"Let's hope not."

It takes me a second, then…Mase!" I gasp. "You perv."

His chuckle is the cutest thing ever. "What?"

"You're much dirtier than I realized."

"Nah."

"You totally are. You're like, closeted dirty."

"You make it so hard—"

"Oh my god!"

"You didn't let me finish!" He cracks up. "I was going to say you make it so hard _not to be._"

"Mmhmm."

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"I can't fuckin' wait."

I smile so wide it hurts. "Me neither."

* * *

I drag Rose bathing suit shopping a few days before the trip. Normally, I appreciate her good taste and honest opinion, but today she's less honest and more…rude. She's quiet and grumpy, and when she tells me it looks like I'm trying too hard in a basic halter two-piece, I've finally had enough. "What's your problem?"

"Oh, please," she sighs, rolling her eyes. "Don't be so sensitive. It doesn't fit well. It's nothing personal."

I pull the top off and hang it back on its hanger. "It _is _personal. You've been acting like a dick for weeks."

"I haven't even _seen _you in weeks."

"Is that what this is about?"

She gives me a withering look, and for the first time I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of Rose's wrath. "It's not _about _anything."

"Are you upset because I've been spending so much time with Prep people?"

"Nope." She snatches my shirt off the hook and thrusts it at me. "I don't care who you spend time with."

"Clearly," I say dryly.

"Not everything's about you, Bella."

"I know that."

"It's always Bella this and Mase that." She flaps her hand mockingly. "I get it. You guys are perfect."

My heart tugs at the ugly way she says his name. "Do you not like Mase?" I ask quietly.

"He's fine."

"He's…fine?" I pull my shirt over my head slowly, taking extra time to blink away the tears that formed when she started being mean. The thought of buying a new bathing suit suddenly seems like the most trivial thing in the world. I'm fighting with my best friend, and I don't even know why. "I'm gonna go," I say quietly, gathering up my stuff.

"Yeah, go run to Mase," she scoffs. "That'll help."

"You know what?" I hike my bag up over my shoulder and narrow my eyes at her, "He's never said a bad word about you. Never. You look like a total ass right now."

"Bullshit."

Thinking of all the times I excused her for treating Mase poorly makes me want to cry. I can't believe she's doing this. "He hasn't," I insist. "You've treated him like shit, and he's never said a single thing. Why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Stop being such a diva."

"You're so mean," I whisper, the effort to hold back tears making my voice shake. "What's wrong with you?"

She glares at me but doesn't offer an apology or explanation, so I do what I should've done a long time ago: I walk away.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and for leaving me kind notes. Thanks also to Maplestyle, for the guidance.**


	17. Chapter 17

Early Saturday morning, we leave behind Seattle gray skies and head to San Diego, where it's sunny and warm. I'm still bummed about my fight with Rose, but it's hard to feel sad when I'm wedged between Mase and a window overlooking blue water and banks of white sand.

"You nervous?"

I glance up from my book. "About what?"

"I dunno." He leans his head against the seat. "Spending an entire week with me?"

"Not at all," I say truthfully. I'll spend every minute I can with him before he leaves. I want to tell him that my heart hurts even though he's just right there, but my stomach's in knots about Rose, and the last thing I need is to dwell on how life will be when college pulls Mase east and keeps me close to home.

The captain's voice crackles loudly overhead, reminding us to adjust our seats for landing. I rest my head on Mase's shoulder and listen to the giggly voices of Lizzie and her friend from the seats behind us.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

He jostles his shoulder a bit, trying to find my smile. "You seem kinda quiet."

He's so laid-back and drama-free that for a moment, I debate telling him. Keeping secrets seems deceitful and insincere, though, so I dismiss the thought as soon as it comes. "I'm fighting with Rose," I say, shrugging. "It's fine."

"Aren't you guys, like, always fighting?"

"Pretty much," I agree, laughing dryly. "Except this time it's for real."

"Oh." He looks confused. "How come?"

I don't know how to tell him that _he's _the reason Rose's insecurity meter peaked into the red and she lost her fucking soul. Mase hasn't done anything wrong, and I don't want him to feel responsible for my hurt feelings and quiet mood.

"I think she's jealous," I reply tentatively. "Of the time we spend together."

His eyebrows slide up in surprise. "You and me?"

"Yeah."

"Like…she thinks we hang out too much?"

"I think it's more that she doesn't want me spending time with anyone _but_ her."

There's a part of me that worries talking about Rose's issues will make Mase question things between us. Are we moving too fast? Is this too intense? For me it feels just right.

"I don't get it." He shakes his head. "Why does she get to decide who you spend your time with?"

"She doesn't," I reply. "That's why we're fighting."

He looks down at his hands, the _girls-are-so-strange_ expression on his face pulling his eyebrows together. "Well do _you _think this is too much?" He waves a hand between us. "What we have?"

"No," I insist, repeating my words from earlier. "Not at all."

"Me neither." He links our fingers together. "But maybe when we get back home you guys should hang out more. Just the two of you."

"I don't think so." I shake my head, swallowing over the lump in my throat. "I'm going to give her some space. She…said some really mean stuff."

Mase's eyes are kind and understanding. "I'm sorry," he says, kissing my temple.

I'm relieved he doesn't try to placate me with empty words or false reassurances. His response was simple and sweet and a perfect example of why I can't wait to spend the week with this boy. The smile that overtakes my face is real and just for him. "Let's just be on vacation." I peck his cheek. "I don't want to think about her anymore."

He catches my mouth, pulling me as close as my seatbelt will allow and kissing me breathless. "Hey."

I'm heavy lids and a heaving chest. "Yeah?"

"You're a good friend. You know that, right?"

_Do _I know that I'm a good friend? Rose's accusations rocked my confidence, and I'm not really sure anymore. "I guess," I murmur, shrugging.

"Look at Angela and Katie and those guys. They love you."

I blush. "Mase—"

"And me," he interrupts, his breath sweet and warm against the corner of my mouth. "Don't forget about me." His hands grip my jaw as our lips meet again. "I love you best of all."

* * *

The beach house is every bit as perfect as Mase hinted it would be. It's right on the water and giant, with glass-front walls and a beachy interior. The lower deck holds a heated pool and comfy chairs for watching local surfers and beach-goers, a far cry from the hipsters in hiking boots we're used to. Between the perfect weather and the pulsing energy, San Diego's even better than I imagined.

And then there's Mase.

He's beautiful back home, when he's tall and jeans-clad lean. But on the beach, shirtless and wide-chested…I can't tear my eyes away.

"Are your cheeks sunburned already?" he jokes when he catches me staring. We're dipping our toes in the water for the first time since arriving, having spent several hours unpacking and acquainting ourselves with the house.

I blush hotter. "I can't help it. You have skin, like…everywhere."

He tugs at the thin straps of my two piece, laughing. "So do you."

I tried to choose suits that were appropriate for hanging out with Mase's family, but without Rose's guidance, I was left to fend for myself. I veered toward cute and away from indecent, and I'm hoping I hit the mark. "Is this okay?" I ask, waving a hand up and down nervously.

His eyebrows slide high as he grins at my chest. "Looks good to me."

"Mase." I slap his stomach playfully, secretly loving his words. "Your parents are right there."

"So."

"So what if they see you ogling my…you know."

He smirks. "Your what?"

"My"—I drop my voice to a whisper—"breasts."

He cracks up, and the sound of his laughter draws his family's attention. I wave awkwardly and fold my arms. "Oh my god," I groan. "They're looking."

"Is that really what you call them?" he teases, pulling me against his chest. "Your _breasts_?"

"What am I supposed to call them?" I look over his shoulder to make sure we're alone. "Tits?"

This sends him into a fit of laughter all over again.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he finally manages, kissing me quickly. "You're just cute."

"Because I don't like tits?"

He looks at me strangely.

"The _word_ tits," I clarify.

"Because you've given it so much thought."

I roll my eyes. "I really haven't. I just prefer breasts."

He smirks.

"Oh my god," I huff. "The _word _breasts."

I pinch his sides when he laughs at me, making him squirm and grab my arms. We wrestle around for a minute until our nearly bare bodies get a little too friendly and Mase has to head to the water to hide the result. I adjust my top and follow him in, feeling light and happy and so full of love.

The sun's dropping lower by the minute, and the water's freezing. "All good?" I call, wading deeper.

He grabs my waist when I'm close enough, wrapping my legs around his hips. My teeth chatter, and I wiggle just a little to get closer.

"Stop," he murmurs, kissing my mouth. "I'm cold, and I wanna go inside."

"Want me to distract you?"

"How?"

"I don't know," I say. "Tell me something."

"Um." He pulls my wet hair aside and presses his lips to my neck. The warmth of his breath makes my skin pebble. "You make me laugh."

I scratch my fingers through his hair, feeling high on his touch and his words. "What else?"

"I'm glad you're here."

"Yeah?"

He nods.

I relax against him and let the water move us back and forth. "Me too."

"And I love you."

"Mase," I breathe.

"I do," he says softly. "So much."

I kiss his cheeks and his jaw and his lips, wishing I could climb inside his skin. "I love you, more."

* * *

We fall asleep watching a movie with his family later that night. Mase is sun-kissed warm and cuddly, but I'm so exhausted I barely make it past the opening credits. Hours later, when the house is dark and quiet, he wakes me with soft kisses and wandering hands. "Come on, pretty girl," he says quietly. "Let's go upstairs."

"What about your parents?" I ask tiredly.

"It's okay. They're already asleep."

I groggily follow him up the stairs and into the last bedroom at the end of the long, dark hall. He pulls back the covers while I slip my bathing suit top through the arms of my tank and step out of my shorts.

"Take that off," he says quietly, nodding toward my shirt.

I hesitate, making sure the door is shut and locked before biting my lip and tugging the top over my head. In nothing but my unders, I slide beneath crisp, cool sheets and turn on my side to face him.

"You okay?"

I hide my yawn in my arm, nodding and blinking through sleep-heavy lids.

His muscles stretch and pull as he leans across the bed to turn off the lamp. When he settles, I find him in the dark and scoot closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. We've spent nights together in my bed, but never without the fear of my dad weighing heavy in the back of our minds. The anticipation of sleeping beside him without worry or guilt makes me giddy.

"Hi, breasts," he teases, pulling me closer.

I laugh, pushing against his chest. "No making fun of me."

He chuckles and grabs my wrists, pulling them forward until we're face to face. His hands are heavy and warm as they slide smoothly across my skin, skimming my nipples and making my body flush hot. "So tomorrow," he whispers, running his nose along the base of my throat. "Everybody's going to Coronado Island."

"Okay," I breathe.

"At nine."

"Nine," I croak. "Got it."

His hand slides across my bare thigh, squeezing it gently. "Do you wanna go?" He pauses to drop sweet kisses against my mouth. "Or would you rather stay here?"

"Here?" I repeat, confused.

"Yeah."

"What, like…just us?"

I feel him nod, and my heart races. An entire day alone feels too good to be true. "That one," I say. "The second one."

"Yeah." He laughs. "Me too."

I watch through tired eyes as he turns off his alarm and silences his ringer. He yawns hugely and scrubs a hand over his face. "Sleepy?"

He shrugs. "A little."

The thrill of being alone—and mostly naked—in a bed with him has my mind racing, but when he yawns again, I curl around him and keep my hands to myself. Tomorrow we'll have all day.

Finally.

"'Night, Mase," I whisper.

He covers my hand with his own, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it gently. "'Night."

* * *

**For Tiff. Thanks for holding my hand the entire way. XO**


	18. Chapter 18

I wake up the next morning alone and slightly disoriented. Strips of warm light flood the room, spilling over my arms and legs and naked chest. The spot where Mase slept is adorably rumpled, and I press my face against his pillow and let out a tiny squeal. Happiness is a lazy vacation morning and sunshine sheets. The only thing missing is Mase.

Crossing my arms over my body, I slide out of bed and tiptoe toward the bathroom, pausing along the way to check the time on Mase's phone. It's a few minutes after nine, but the house is uncharacteristically silent. I hope I haven't overslept.

I'm rinsing the toothpaste from my mouth when strong arms band my waist. "Hi." Mase's hair is wild and messy, and his bare chest is already more golden than when we arrived.

"Good morning." I wipe my chin on a towel and turn to face him. "Where'd you go?"

"Seeing everybody off. I figured it'd be easier to tell them we're staying behind if I helped load up."

"I wish you'd told me." I'm embarrassed to have been sleeping while everyone else was up and around. "I would've helped."

His whiskers are the best kind of scratchy when he presses his lips to mine. "It's okay. Besides, I was on the couch when my mom came down, so I'm pretty sure she thinks I slept there."

"I thought you said she wouldn't care."

"She won't. But still…Lizzie and her friend. I don't want to flaunt it, you know?"

I try to picture my brother being so considerate of me, but the idea is laughable. Jared's never cared about anyone but himself. Mase's respect for his family is another reminder of how innately _good_ he is.

"You ready for breakfast?" His bare feet smack against the hardwood floors as he follows me back into the bedroom. "There's stuff downstairs for pancakes and bacon."

I raise an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"Sure." He shrugs, perching on the edge of the bed. "Just dump it all in a pan, right?"

"Uh…right." Laughing, I rifle through my suitcase for a fresh bathing suit and shorts. "Let me just get dressed real quick."

He stretches out on the bed and props his head on folded arms while I fumble around awkwardly, one arm shielding my naked chest. Eventually, he looks at me strangely. "You good?"

"Yeah, just…don't look, okay?"

He cracks up. "You _do_ know you've been standing there topless this entire time, right?"

When my cheeks burn hot and my arm doesn't move, Mase pulls himself from the bed and crosses to where I'm standing. "What's the matter?" He tugs my hands gently until I'm standing bare before him. "I've already seen all of you. You're perfect."

If I didn't feel silly before, I certainly do now. "I'm being an idiot." I bury my flushed face in my hands. "I think I'm just nervous."

His eyebrows pull together. "About what?"

"I can't even say it."

"Is it…the breast thing?"

This makes me laugh out loud. When I pull my hands from my face, Mase looks confused and alarmed and…ridiculously cute.

"No. Though that's embarrassing, too." I take a deep breath and prepare to share a mess of insecurities with the most confident boy I know. "It's stupid. I've been wanting this for a long time. It doesn't make sense to be nervous, but I—"

"Sex?"

"What?"

He takes a step closer. "That's what you're nervous about? Sex with me?"

"Well," I croak, "when you put it that way, uh, yeah. A little."

His hands are warm and strong when they wrap around my shoulders and pull me to his chest. My nakedness feels a lot less awkward when it's tangled up in his. "Please don't be nervous," he says softly.

I press my lips to the skin above his heart.

"We can wait."

Standing on my toes, I find his eyes and kiss his mouth. "It's not that. I don't feel rushed. Just…a little overwhelmed."

Gentle hands grip my jaw and thumbs rub arcs that make me melt. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm kind of scared, too."

"Really?"

He nods. "I've never done it with someone I love."

His candid declaration is all the reminder I need. He's right: this isn't like anything else before it. There's no template. It's Mase and me, and we're special.

I should follow his lead and simply love.

* * *

**I'm aiming for shorter chapters and hoping it means less time between updates. My kids are out of school, though, and they don't seem to care that Mommy's busy helping Mase and Bella seal the deal. Rude.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing and sending me love. You guys make me happy, even when skies are gray.**


	19. Chapter 19

Spurred by his words, I toss my clothes back into my suitcase and boldly push my palm against the front of Mase's shorts.

"Whoa," he sputters. "I thought you were overwhelmed."

I laugh. "Sorry."

He quickly turns hard beneath my hand, and when I squeeze a little, his eyelids flutter shut. I kiss his bare shoulders and neck and jaw, all the places I can reach, then push him palms-to-chest until he stumbles to the bed, tugging me with him.

His hands grip my hips when I straddle his thighs, thumbs rubbing circles near the spot I want him most. He's heavy lids and a lazy smile, and my earlier nervousness suddenly seems so stupid.

I roll my hips against his, loving the way his chest heaves when I line us up just right. We've been here before—with nothing but thin cotton in our way—but this time it feels different. Purposeful. Inevitable.

"They're gone, right?"

"What?" Confusion draws his brows together, but it doesn't pull his eyes from the places we're connected. "Who?"

"Your family."

"I fucking hope so."

I want to worry over how _not _reassuring his answer is, but I can't think about anything except the things that are about to happen. Ways we'll touch. Lines we'll cross. He already feels too good, and we're not even there yet.

When he's had enough of my slow pace, Mase pats my thigh. "Roll over."

Surprised by his boldness, my eyebrows slide up.

"On your back," he clarifies, shooting me a naughty grin.

I know he can see the way my neck flushes at the thought of him behind me, but I can't find it in me to feel embarrassed. I want him however I can get him, and now that my nerves are properly squelched, I'm not ashamed to admit it.

He settles between my legs, resting an elbow by my head and dropping low to kiss my mouth. Our kisses are sweet and practiced and gentle...until they're not. Eventually we're panting into each other's mouths more than we're kissing, and his hips are grinding in just the right way. I cling to his shoulders and pull him closer with my heels.

"Take these off." I tug at his shorts. "I wanna feel you."

I watch in adoration as he sits back on his knees, untying the string on his swim trunks. He's bare beneath them; the little bit of him peeking above his waistband suddenly not little at all. Something primal and desperate bubbles up in me, and I have to stop myself from grinding against the thigh that's pressed between my legs.

His palm slides up my calf, over my knee, and down to my hip. "You're so fucking pretty."

I smile softly. "Come here."

This time when he hovers over me, he's right there, the weight and heat of him making me throb. He moves my unders to the side, rubbing circles with his fingers before growing impatient and tugging them down my legs.

We slide together a few times before his heavy-lidded eyes meet mine. "Okay?"

I nod.

"I love you." He whispers the words against my neck as he pushes inside, torching my body and filling my heart.

We're still for a moment, adjusting, desperate to savor our highs. Eventually, I hook my legs around his, losing my breath when he slides even deeper. He pulls back with a guttural groan, his eyes and jaw clenched tight. "I can't…I've gotta…"

"Go," I whisper.

He moves slow and steady, watching my face and the places we touch. My skin burns with bliss, and my heart feels too big for my chest. I hear it pulsing in my ears when he pushes higher. I feel it squeeze when his eyes find mine, loving me with slow blinks and sweet smiles.

I raise my hips to meet Mase's, feeling him grow impossibly harder with each push and pull. His forehead presses against my temple, and the sound of his breathing grows more rapid with each pass. I'm so close. So…_right there_.

"Mase." My fingers tug at his hair. "Please."

He groans almost painfully before abruptly pulling out. Still chasing, my hips move on their own, already missing the weight and fullness of him. "Fuck," he murmurs, stroking himself a few times before pulsing and spilling onto my stomach.

Nothing's ever looked as good as Mase when he's coming undone.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, eventually sitting back and letting his eyes pass over me sheepishly. "Sorry."

I cover my face with my hands and giggle. There's cum on my stomach and sweat on our sheets, and I'm so happy I could burst.

"Hey." Slightly disoriented, he leans over the side of the bed, searching for something to clean me up. "No laughing."

I giggle harder. "Hurry! It's in my belly button."

"It's hot." Grabbing his discarded shorts, he wipes them across my skin. "Trust me."

He collects our clothes, tossing them into the corner of the room before collapsing beside me. My fingers left his hair a mess, but rumpled and sated looks good on Mase. The sun paints his face with slats of sunshine, while mine feels loose with a lovesick grin.

"You good?"

"So good."

We kiss slow and sweet until our eyelids droop and our tangled limbs feel heavy.

Hours later, I wake for the second time to a room that's bright with sunshine. Afternoon this time. Unlike before, Mase is beside me now, cozy and solid and still so perfect.

He's on his stomach, one arm under his pillow and the other draped across my waist. I wriggle closer, studying his long lashes and full lips. He looks so young when he sleeps, and if possible, my already full heart grows.

When his eyelids flutter open, I hide my smile in his shoulder, embarrassed to be caught staring.

"I love you, too," I whisper. "I forgot to say it back. Earlier."

He smiles sluggishly. "I know you do."

Warm and sleep-soft, this version of Mase is even more tempting than the usual. He tugs my hip, pulling me close until he's pressed against my belly. When his hands start to wander and his mouth explores, I don't do anything to hold him back. Now that I know how good we can be, the anticipation of what's to come is nearly too much.

Like earlier, he pats my thigh. "Roll over."

His eyes shine mischievously, and his grin is my undoing.

This time, I listen.

* * *

***I'm an advocate for birth control. Google the pull-out method for more information on ways it doesn't protect against STDs and pregnancy (neither of which exist in my fictional world). **


	20. Chapter 20

After a quick run for fish tacos, we spend the rest of the afternoon on the deck, sun soaking and people watching. I'm sore in the best kind of way and so high on Mase it's almost awkward. It's never been an issue for me in the past—when things progress physically—but everything's different with Mase. My feelings for him quadrupled in the span of a few hours, and now I'm even more love-struck dumb than I already was.

Despite Mase's attempts at subtlety, his family's not stupid; they know what we did while they were away. They've hardly dropped their bags that afternoon when Lizzie scrunches her nose.

"Ew, Mase, gross."

He looks confused, the taco in his hand teetering dangerously. "What?"

"You're all"—she waves a hand in the air—"smug."

"Um…okay?"

She nudges Allie, and the two of them pin us with teasing grins.

There's a strong chance I've never been this embarrassed in my life. I look at my plate, my nails, the sky…anything but the little sister who has us all figured out.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Mase tucks back into his meal, ignoring their giggles. "And we're eating, so…bye."

"How'd you work up such an appetite?" she sing-songs.

Mase's mom interrupts her daughter's interrogation, joining us on the deck with a margarita in one hand and a plate of tacos in the other. "I wish you'd been there today." She smiles wistfully, snagging the chair beside mine. "Coronado was beautiful. You two really missed out."

"I doubt that," Mase mumbles, squeezing my thigh.

"Ew!" Lizze screeches. "I heard that!"

* * *

The mortification only gets worse. Later that night, when we're huddled around the beachside chiminea, I remember the promise I made my dad. "I should go call my parents," I mutter, pulling myself from the warmth of Mase's side. "I swore I'd check in."

"Tell them we said hello." Mase's dad's smile is friendly and genuine. It's easy to see where his son gets his kindness.

"I will."

"You wanna walk down the beach?" Mase asks. "While you call?"

"Sure."

I throw a hoodie on over my bathing suit and run upstairs to grab my phone. There are several text alerts from Rose, but the feeling of dread that bubbles up in my stomach tells me I'm not ready for all that yet.

"All good?" Mase grabs my hand and leads us through the side gate. The sand is cool against my bare feet, and the moon shines its face on the ocean in ripples. After all the ways we touched today, feeling weepy about the weight of Mase's hand in mine seems crazy. He's right beside me…yet I want him even closer. I'm lovesick and impulsive and all the things I said I'd never be.

"You're quiet." He pulls me against his side. "Everything okay?"

"Just nervous about calling my parents." It's a half-truth, but I don't want to give him the full story: that I'm clingy and needy and in way over my head. That I love the way I fit beside him and a college life without him feels desperately unfair.

His eyebrows slide up. "Nervous? Why?"

"I'm afraid they're going to know."

"Know what?"

"What we did." My cheeks burn. "Today."

He smirks. "Which time?"

"Ugh." I shove his chest. "You're no help."

Laughing, he twists out of my reach. "Just call them. It'll be fine."

We walk a bit farther while I gather up my courage, stopping eventually when the shoreline becomes too rocky to continue. Mase reclines against a boulder, tugging me between his legs.

"Ready?"

I groan and slide my thumb across the screen. "I guess."

My mom answers, which feels like a tiny victory. I'm not sure I can handle an interrogation from my dad.

"Heyyy, Mom." I'm overeager and awkward, and behind me, Mase's chest shakes with laughter.

We've barely said our hellos when she abruptly cuts me off. "Hold on a second, baby. Daddy wants to talk. Let me get him—

"Oh, no, that's okay. I—"

"CHARLIE, PICK UP. BELLA'S ON THE PHONE!"

Defeated already, I drop my head in my hand.

"Bella?"

I sigh. "Hi, Dad."

"Hello? Bella?"

"Still here, Mom."

"Can you hear us?"

"Yes," I mutter. "I hear you both."

They talk over each other until my mom's voice wins. "So how's the beach?"

"Perfect." I slide my fingers through Mase's and smile a secret smile.

"What did you do today?"

"You know…just beach stuff."

"Beach stuff?"

"Yeah. Like…swimming," I lie. "And making sand castles. Big ones. Using buckets and shovels."

Mase nudges me, his eyes wide with you've-gone-too-far caution.

"Right." My mom drags the word out, unconvinced. "Is…everything okay?"

"Everything's great."

"Are you sleeping well?"

I cough and sputter and choke on air.

"Honey?"

"I'm here, Mom. Sorry."

"Okay." She pauses for a long time, and my stomach twists and turns nervously. "Well…have fun."

"Thanks."

"And Bella?"

"Yeah?"

"Be safe."

I swallow hard. "I will."

Before I have time to think about the implications of her words, my dad's in my ear.

"You still have that folding money?"

I roll my eyes. "Nobody under ninety calls it that, Dad. It's cash."

"Don't spend it all in one place."

"I won't."

"What about sunscreen? You wearing that?"

I snort. "Uh...yeah. I'm good."

"Skin cancer's no joke, Bella."

"Nobody's laughing about cancer, Dad. Stop being a weirdo."

Naturally, this leads to a story about his fishing buddy's great aunt's brother who had cancer so bad he lost his leg.

I interrupt as soon as I'm able. "I've gotta run, but I'll call soon, okay?"

"Tomorrow. That was the deal, remember?"

"I remember," I mutter.

"Stay out of the sun."

"Dad, I'm at the _beach_."

I can almost hear him grin. "Don't get smart with me."

I laugh. "You're the strangest person I've ever known."

"Love you, Bella girl."

"Love you, too, Daddy."

* * *

Mase and I take our time walking back to the house. The beach is surprisingly active this time of night with runners and bikers and other couples strolling. We pass a small marina where sailboats bob and knock against each other to the cadence of the waves.

"I officially love it here."

Mase laughs. "Me too. When I was little I thought I'd move here."

The thought of him as a beach boy makes me smile. "Yeah? What happened?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. My Dad went to Duke so…it kind of became a thing."

"Duke's a big accomplishment," I remind him softly. "You should be proud."

"Yeah," he mutters. "I guess."

We're silent for a bit after that. He seems conflicted, and I'm annoyed that fear for our future has overshadowed the happiness I felt earlier today. I meant what I said: Mase worked hard, and he deserves success. I would never do anything to interfere with his goals.

"I just have to try, you know?" He blurts eventually, dropping my hand to run his fingers through his hair. "I can't _not _try."

The calm and cool boy I'm used to seems uncharacteristically frustrated and tense. I don't want to be the cause of his stress. Not after the day we've had. Not _ever_.

I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. "I know," I say truthfully. "I love that about you."

And I do. Even if it breaks my heart.

* * *

**To Shell, whom I adore. Hope this week's been brighter. XO**


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